From Heir to Familiar
by JoshMaxii
Summary: When Louise the Zero wanted to summon a familiar that could strike fear into the hearts of Dragons, she got exactly what she wanted, even if it was in a form that she wasn't quite expecting. Pulled from the Throat of the World, Wulfgar Iron-Fist, now sole heir to the Ruby Throne, must put up with an annoying brat in a land where magic is everything, and true honor means nothing...
1. Chapter 1

**Tristian **Magical Academy, Kingdom of Tristian; Halkegenia****

It was a brisk spring morning in the Magical Academy of Tristian, on the continent of Halkegenia **.** The sun shone high in the sky, casting its warm light down upon the world below. The white stone walls of the Academy practically glistened in the morning light, creating the image of a grand stone fortress brimming with wealth and positivity... for nobles at least. Within the great walls of the Academy, the second year students began to gather around a large open courtyard. Young men and women of all shapes and sizes crowded around their friends, chatting in an animated fashion as they discussed the topic of the day; the Summoning Ritual.

Each of these students wore a long dark cloak over a white dress shirt, with boys wearing long black pants and the girls wearing knee length black skirts to help preserve their modesty. A large circular broach with a five pointed star emblazoned in the center of it kept the ends of their cloak from falling away, though it was rather quite bulky and impractical. No commoner within the entire continent could so much as afford the uniform of an academy student, thus it was no surprise that every single student on the grounds was from nobility.

Among the unruly band of nobles, a young woman with strawberry pink hair stood out from the rest of the pack, and for all the wrong reasons. Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière was quite petite for her age, and didn't look a day over 14 despite having lived for over 17 winters. She was among the shortest in her year, despite having come from a family of tall, charismatic nobility. She glanced around nervously, tapping her foot. She was right to feel rather apprehensive, after all, as a Mage she had never cast a successful spell in her entire life.

Her absolute failure to conjure up anything but an explosion had earned her the name "Zero" Oh how she loathed being called that! It took every mistake and failure and just threw it in her face and rubbed salt into her wounded pride. Still, she was a Vallière; a member of the most respected noble family within the kingdom of Tristian. With that name came a certain sense of dignity that no amount of name calling could take away from the young Louise for long.

"Ahem, students if I may have your attention please," A voice called out from across the clearing. Louise turned her gaze in the direction where the shout had come from and sighed softly to herself. It was Professor Colbert, the man who would be in charge of the ritual today. Though he was bald, the professor was quite clearly a fit man, towering over the rest of the class as he leaned casually upon his staff. His robes were cobalt blue and swept out behind him as he shook his head and took a couple of steps towards the crowd who didn't seem to have heard him. The mage cleared his throat, tapping the butt of his staff on the cobblestones to make sure that everyone had their eyes and ears focused on him.

"First off; I wish to give my congratulations to all of you. As second year students, today is an exceptionally important day." He continued, smiling at the young nobles as well as the few servants who were taking a break to watch the professor's address to the students. He paid the commoners no mind, after all it wasn't like they were going to participate in the ritual in any way. After all, only the ruling class were even capable of doing magic, and no commoner had a drop of magical talent within themselves.

"For today is among our most sacred of days, and arguably the most important day in any Mage's life. For today, you will call forth your familiar; your eternal servant who serve as your faithful companion for the rest of your days!" He said spreading his arms out wide. "The summoning of a Familiar is a sacred ritual, and whatever you call forth from the Ether and beyond is what you get. There are no do overs, am I clear?"

"Guess that Louise won't be able to summon anything but a massive explosion!" A particularly heavy set boy said off to the side. Louise glared daggers at him from the corner of her eye, but took a few deep breaths and tried to calm herself down. The other second years continued to snicker and giggle, which did nothing but piss off the pinkette even further.

"Hah! The Zero and her failure; what a beautifully poetic partnership that would be!" Came another voice from the crowd, this time from a curly haired girl by the name of Montmorency. Louise scowled, grinding her teeth but opting to remain silent. They were all so full of themselves...she would show them. She had to, the honor of her family depended on it...

"Oh come now, I'm sure Louise will summon the greatest familiar that anyone of us has ever seen." Louis whipped around, her eyes twitching with irritation. They locked onto a dark skinned girl that stood several heads taller than her with dark red locks of hair. "After all, with all of your boasting yesterday I would expect nothing less than the best." She said with a teasing smile.

This…Germanian harlot was known as Kirche von Zerbst, and Louise absolutely hated her. Not only because she had a tendency to sleep around with pretty much every boy that she could get her hands on, but also because her family had a long standing rivalry with the Zerbst family. Those factors, combined with her well developed, voluptuous body and exoticly dark skin made Louise the 'Zero' absolutely despise Kirche the 'Fever'.

"I will Zerbst! I'll show all of you!" Louis growled, seething with unconcealed anger as she stomped her foot into the dirt, kicking up a small cloud of dust and dirtying her pristine black leather shoes. Why did she have to go and open up her big stupid mouth the other day? If she had just bit her lip and held her tongue she wouldn't have to live up to the failure of…no! No she would not fail! Not this time! If there was one day for anything to truly go her way, it was today. After all, if she failed at even summoning her familiar…no, she wouldn't even permit herself to think that way!

"Please, the Zero can't even cast a proper spell, what makes you think that she won't screw this up as well?" said another snarky boy with blonde hair. Louise grimaced and clenched her wand tightly in her fist. Guiche de Garmout, or Guiche the 'Bronze' as he so often liked to be called held his rose shaped wand in front of his mouth, chuckling. Louise slowly reached into her robes, grabbing for the hilt of her wand...if Guiche wanted to pick a fight then by Brimir he would get it! However, before anything could escalate however, the professor stepped forward.

"Settle down, all of you! I will not have you bickering amongst each other during this sacred ritual!" He growled, cowing everyone else around Louise into submission. "Now if you don't mind, it's time for us to begin."

* * *

The first few summons were rather unremarkable. A bugbear here, a fairy there…wait, did Louise just see a little black dog? The young Vallière smirked and shook her head, trying to cover up her lips as she laughed silently under her breath. She would be embarrassed for summoning such a common, lowly creature. With her competition so lax she felt quite confident that she'd be able to upstage them all.

It was in that moment that the young Gallian, Tabitha summoned her familiar…a glorious blue scaled dragon. Despite the fact that it was quite young, it was still utterly massive and incredibly powerful. Louise's eyebrow twitched in irritation. Damn, now she had to top even that, or at least draw even with her. The young girl shook her head, determination burning fiercely in her red eyes. She would not let herself be discouraged so easily!

Guiche the Bronze being the pompous fop that he was ended up summoning a dirty mole the size of a large dog, fitting for someone who was the flirtatious fourth son of the Gramout family. Like a typical nobleman trying to cover up his failure, the young man went about proclaiming to anyone who would listen that he had planned on summoning the wretched creature the entire time. Louise smiled inwardly, reveling in his humiliation for the moment.

Kirche von Zerbst, much to Louise's chagrin, had summoned as fiery salamander. The great red scaled lizard sat at the dark skinned bimbo's side like a loyal hound, its fire tipped tail lashing back and forth as it glared at everyone in sight. The Germaninan noble looked over at Louise with a broad smile, gently stroking the beast's head. Everyone was crowding around her, gazing in awe at the exotic beast.

"Hehe, think you can top this Louise? Come on now, you know you can only try." The Germanian teased over the din of the crowd, winking at the strawberry haired girl. Louise fumed; there was no way she was going to ever be upstaged by that bimbo again, ever! She would show her, and everyone else that she was deserving of the Vallière family name!

Professor Colbert looked over the students and their familiars, watching them as they went about bonding with one another. He smiled, relieved that everyone seemed happy with what they had pulled forth. "Alright then, has everyone finished?" He asked, scanning the courtyard for anyone who did not have a familiar present with them.

"Louise hasn't gone yet!" Kirche said, speaking up over the throng of students. Several of their faces went noticeably pale as they stepped away from the young Valliere and looked over at the Germanian with horror in their eyes.

"You can't let her try; all she'll do is kill us!

"Yeah, she can't even get the most basic of spells right, what makes you think that she'll do any different this time!"

"Don't let her do it, its suicide!"

Louise's face burned a bright shade of red, and she had to fight the tears trying to form in her eyes. She bit her lip, nearly drawing blood as she stepped forward. Everyone near the summoning circle took several spaces back, clearly panicked as the petite girl raised her wand. Many of them ended up nearly falling over one another in their mad scramble to get away from the young Vallière.

"I'll show every single one of you!" She said in as dignified of a manner as she could produce despite the fact that her voice was quavering. She clenched her fist harder, causing her hand to shake violently as she tried not to let her rage seep into her voice. Professor Colbert stepped forward and gently placed his hand on the girl's shoulder, and Louise was rather grateful for the gesture of trust.

"You may begin when you're ready" He said, being the only person brave enough to be anywhere close to Louise when she attempted to perform any feat of magic.

The Vallière nodded, taking a deep breath. She summoned up her courage, and began to speak, raising her wand high into the air over the circle.

 **"To my servant who exists somewhere in this vast universe"**

Several other student blinked, talking amongst themselves, seemingly finding it rather hard to believe what Louise was saying…and that her wand hadn't exploded in her face yet! No one had expected that...though it was likely only a matter of time before it happened. As such, each of them took another good step or two back, just in case.

"That's really vauge, can she do that?" Kirche asked, elbowing her friend Tabitha. The young blue haired girl looked up and gave the slightest shrug of her shoulders before returning to her book. However, unbeknownst to anyone her eyes peered over the rim of the leather bound tome as she watched Louise intensely, her glasses flashing in the light of the midday sun.

Louise began holding her wand higher aloft. She could already feel the power surging through her body, causing her eyes to light up in delight! She had never felt such power coursing through her veins in her entire life! So great was her disbelief and pleasure that she did not notice the sky darkening overhead as the air slowly grew frigid.

 **"I, Louise Francoise le Blanc de la Valliere, in the name of the Pentagon of Five Elemental Powers call out to you!"**

It was then that the ghostly, barbaric chanting began. The sky rumbled and green lightning split the heavens. It sent shivers up the young mage's spine. This sort of thing hadn't occurred during the other student's rituals, but the young woman wasn't about to let this faze her as she continued to speak, inspiration now flowing through her as she whipped her wand through the air.

Several other students began to back further away from the young mage, feeling rather startled at the sudden turn of events. The fact that the Zero was actually doing something that no one had ever seen before didn't come as a surprise, but the otherworldly chant drifting upon the breeze and the darkening of the morning sky certainly did.

Many of them cowered behind one another, and a few of them took cover behind the professor as he watched the sky curiously. He quickly reached down and grabbed a tome from his bag, flicking his fingers to summon a floating quill and inkwell as he quickly began to take notes about the event.

 **"My wise, beautiful, powerful and divine servant who strikes fear into even the hearts of dragons!"**

Louise continued, finally noticing that the air had suddenly becoming quite frigid. Something cold and wet brushed up against her face, prompting the Vallière to pause. Snow? In the middle of spring? How could that be? She shook her head and continued, determined to continue despite the protests of her classmates, who begged her to stop as the ethereal chant grew in intensity. She would show them all, this was her moment!

 **"Heed my call and bring yourself forth…My…Familiar!"**

The sky flashed brilliantly, and a dazzling array of beautiful lights began to dance overhead in long, endless ribbons. It was a phenomenon of breathtaking beauty that no one present in the courtyard had ever seen. The dancing lights shifted and turned with all the colors of the rainbow. And then Louise noticed something even stranger than the light show overhead. Two moons hung in the sky, one currently hiding partially behind the other. To complete this already otherworldly view of the sky, the deep, unnerving voices broke into song, the air crackling like thunder all around the Academy.

* * *

 **Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin, naal ok zin vahriin**

 **Wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal!**

 **Ahrk fin norok pall graan fod nus hon zindro zaan,**

 **Dovahkiin, fah hin kogaan mu draal!**

The ghostly barbarian choir had burst into deafening song, drowning out the screams of the students around her as they covered their heads in fear and collapsed to the ground in fright.. The sound of instruments followed, though no one could see their players as the music drifted across the breeze. The wind began to pick up, whipping the lightly falling snow around them into a frenzy.

So great was everyone's distress that no one seemed to notice Tabitha's dragon look towards the sky, its mouth agape. The young Gallian looked up at her familiar, seemingly surprised as she noticed how awestruck the blue scaled dragon appeared to be. She gently reached over to pat the great scaly beast on the leg...but it remained entranced by the chorus that shook the very heavens themselves.

 **Huzrah nu, ku do od, wa aan bok, lingrah vod,**

 **Ahrk fin tey, bozik fun, do fin gein!**

Louise herself now had to cover her ears and eyes as the snow began to blind her, chilling her to the bone as a distant roar echoed across the heavens, accompanied by several female voices added to the choir. This was too strange, she had never even heard of such an event taking place during a summoning ritual, and she had done many weeks of research in advance to make sure that she hadn't screwed anything up during this most sacred of days.

 **Wo lost fran wah ney dov, ahrk fin reyliik do jul,**

 **Voth aan suleyk wah ronit faal krein!**

The male voices continued, though far more muted this time as the female's calm, hauntingly beautiful voice overshadowed them. Louise could swear that she heard more echoing snarls and roaring drifting out across the snowstorm, but she couldn't be sure.

 **Fod zeymah win kein meyz fundein,**

 **Alduin, feyn do jun, kruziik vokun staadnau**

 **Voth aan bahlok wah diivon fin lein!**

Even over the din of the trumpets playing, Louise could clearly hear the distinctive sound of a dragon's cry as she could distinctly see blasts of flame streaking through the falling snow. In fact she heard several different dragons. It was then that a massive shape appeared before her. The Valliere's heart soared, finally! Her familiar was here to greet her! The young woman squared her shoulders proudly, ready to see her dragon face to face.

The ground shook, and clods of dirt flying up into Louise's face prompted her to dive to the side and just in time too. For her glorious soon to be familiar plowed into the ground face first in front of her, leaving a great furrow nearly fifty yards long in its wake and destroying the carefully laid out chalk summoning circle. The white scaled dragon's face and neck were caked in blood from various ghastly wounds, several of which looked quite mortal. It was then that Louise noticed several arrows sticking out of her familiar's scaly hide, each one of them embedded deep into its flesh almost to the fletching.

The dragon growled menacingly as it tried to stand, but it's wings would no longer support it's gargantuan bulk. As Louise reached down to try and comfort the wounded creature, it's mighty jaws snapped, narrowly missing the startled noblewoman's bare hands. Louise couldn't understand the hate that burned in the creature's icy blue eyes. Why had it tried to bite her? She had just summoned it after all.

She never got her answer, for the dragon's eyes soon closed forever and it's head slumped over to the side. As the monster's body went limp, the young Valliere looked over the white scaled beast in shock. What in the name of the founder had killed her glorious familiar?!

Suddenly, the entire world shook again as a powerful voice ripped through the air, shaking everyone to their very bones.

 **"Lok vah koor!"**

The snowstorm immediately began to settle, revealing two more dragons locked in deadly combat…with a single man. The stranger bore only a blade and shield, with a bow strung over his back. Judging by the pattern and bulkiness of his clothing however, it was rather easy to see that he was wearing some sort of armor as well. He stood at the ready, his shield raised in a defensive position as both of the beasts circled him.

Louise gasped in shock; she had summoned not one, not two, but four separate beings. Anyone of them could be her destined familiar...However, the young noblewoman stood there transfixed by the deadly battle, unable to move or lend aid to either side. The man standing before both of the great monsters was no doubt a commoner judging by his choice of weaponry, but Louise could only imagine the courage it took to face a single dragon in battle, yet alone two on very uneven terms.

Both of the dragons were equally magnificent in her eyes. One of them bore great bronze scales and a massive mace shaped tail, while the other one was more of your archetypal flying green lizard. Either way, binding a dragon to her service as a familiar was the surest way to prove to everyone that she was truly a great mage…now only if she could bring herself to break up the fighting.

One of the dragons spewed forth a great ball of flame, its voice drowned out by din of battle. The man dodged to the side and rolled, prompting Professor Colbert to step in and raise his staff, projecting a ward around him and his students. The fire washed over the shield with a loud resounding crash and dissipated, but not before almost driving the Professor to his knees. "Remarkable…" He muttered under his breath. Then he remembered his duties to the school and rose further to his feet. "Everyone get behind me!"

 **Nuz an suul, fent alok, fod fin vul dovah nok,**

 **Fen kos nahlot, mahfearaak ahrk ruz!**

The man, whilst heavily outnumbered and outmatched was more than willing to continue putting up a fight, much to Louise's surprise. She had expected the commoner to break off and run for the safety of the nobles, the fact that he was willing to stay and fight branded him as incredibly brave…or an utter fool. Knowing that he was of the lower birth of a commoner, it was more likely that this man was simply too stupid for his own good.

A fireball suddenly landed in the midst of the battle, melting the freshly fallen snow into a thick cloud of mist. The stranger jumped to the side once more to avoid the wall of flame that had been thrown up and glanced over his shoulder at Professor Colbert who had his staff raised while he prepared another spell.

However, as the warrior broke eye contact the other dragon reared up, taking a deep breath before spewing forth more fire. Louise grimaced and closed her eyes, prepared to pick up the scent of burning flesh. It was not to be as the strange man lifted up his shield which appeared to be made from brass or bronze, and charged. The fire washed over him, apparently doing no harm as the metal aegis broke the force of the attack.

The green scaled dragon took off, throwing up a flurry of snow with its mighty wings. Inevitably it was the smarter of the two, seeking to gain an advantage while its companion had the warrior busy. The armor clad individual wasted no time in smashing the brutish beast in the face with his shield, knocking loose several of the bronze dragon's teeth in the process.

 **Paaz keinzaal fen kos stin Alduin jot!**

Steel bit into flesh, eliciting a roar of pain from the bronze scaled dragon. Blood poured from the gash in its neck, staining the snow around it bright red. The great beast roared, lunging forward with jaws snapping in an attempt to sink its great fangs into the warrior standing before it. All it managed to do was break several teeth on the rim of the man's strange shield.

Louise couldn't be sure from this angle, but it almost looked like the face of his escutcheon was layered in polished pearl, with an odd thin strip of metal projecting upwards from the center of the boss.

 **Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin, naal ok zin vahriin**

 **Wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal!**

 **Ahrk fin norok pall graan fod nus hon zindro zaan,**

 **Dovahkiin, fah hin kogaan mu draal!**

Electricity rippled across the dragon's body as the stranger's blade yet again found its mark, cutting deeper into the enraged creature's neck. It almost seemed as though the insane man was trying to sever the dragon's head from the rest of its body. Louise couldn't tear her eyes away from the scene, and she wasn't the only one.

All of her classmates looked on in both fascination and abject horror, many of whom had never seen such violence up close. Even more so, it seemed that this man, whoever he was had somehow gained the upper hand in this fight, landing more powerful blows to the beast's head and neck.

Among those watching the battle, Tabitha of Gallia looked on with an unrivaled amount of interest as she raised her staff, ready to throw her might into the midst of the battle as well. However, it was unneeded.

The great dragon howled in pain yet again as the stranger's blade drew a livid red line across its scaly eye, rendering it blind on that side. The monster growled, it's remaining eye locked dead with those of the man who had taken it's sight from it, and Louise could have sworn it spoke…It was then that the circling dragon struck, spewing forth flame at both of the combatants. The grounded dragon looked up, completely astonished that a fellow dragon had attacked it.

It was the last mistake the beast would ever make as the warrior sank his blade into the bottom of the creature's jaw, thrusting it up into its brain. The dragon's look of surprise and horror would be forever frozen on its face as it died instantaneously, its body convulsing uncontrollably as its life blood spewed forth from the mortal wounds it had sustained.

The circling dragon, seizing its chance dove at the warrior with a fierce cry of rage and triumph. However, at the last moment it realized that the dragon slayer

was readying himself for such an attack. He raised his blade, taking careful aim before cleaving downwards, his blade connecting with the base of the dragon's wing...and just like that, the fight was over.

 **Daaah uhn daaah uhn daaah jah! Daah uhn daaah uhn daaah jah!**

The dragon crashed head first into the ground, its wing severed from its body. The beast's body skidded many yards before finally coming to a stop only a few feet in front of Kirche and Tabitha, covering them both in torn up grass and icy snow. Louise almost cursed as the dust cleared. Why couldn't the dragon have at least squished the haughty Germanian? Well, at least her clothing was now effectively ruined...or at least, she hoped it was.

The impact had killed the beast instantly, leaving the man who stood before everyone else in the courtyard victorious. He looked exhausted, but the thrill of victory shone bright in his stormy eyes. It was unbelievable, a single commoner armed with only a sword, shield and bow had managed to take down three mighty dragons, the most powerful creatures in all of Halkegenia, and he was still standing like some ancient god of war amidst the bloody sea that spilled forth from the bodies of his slain foes.

If that wasn't enough, the bodies of the three fallen dragons began to grow hot and glow. Flames licked up around their sides, consuming the flesh of the beasts as a divine wind blew, surrounding the dragon slayer in an ethereal light. It was as though he was consuming their very essences…their very souls.

Louise stepped away from the corpse of the white dragon as it too burst into flames, the fire eating away its flesh until nothing but bones and tendons remained. She had never seen a body do that before, though to be fair she had never seen a corpse up close in her life until now. The snow around the skeletal dragons melted, leaving the grass around them stained red with their blood. However, even that began to evaporate into red steam.

She looked over at the supposed commoner with awe in her eyes. This man, this dragon slayer had accomplished something that most mages could only dream of. He who strikes fear into even the hearts of dragons...Louise thought as she watched the warrior flick his blade to cleanse it of blood before he sheathed it. Her heart skipped a beat...this man was certainly no commoner in her eyes. Anyone who could accomplish such a task had to be a knight at the very least...though the young noblewoman could discern no family crest that she recognized on the man's unusual armor.

However, just as Louise made an attempt to move towards her familiar, Professor Colbert stepped forwards, his staff still held aloft as she moved to position himself between the stranger and the . He pointed it at the dragon slayer who had in turn taken a step towards the young girl. "Halt, stay where you are stranger…" He said, his tone brooking no argument. The man simply looked up at him, with confusion in his eyes. The armored warrior opened his mouth and spoke, but the words that came out were unlike anything that anyone in the courtyard had ever heard.

Judging by the look on the man's face as he took another step forwards, the stranger was quite lost, and looked a bit delirious. As night slowly turned back into day, it was easy to see that the man was soaked in steaming blood…and that his armor appeared to be made from the scales of the very creatures he had just slain. Louise looked up at the sky, and was pleasantly surprised to find that it had returned to the way it was just before she had begun her summoning.

She heard her familiar spew forth more unintelligible drivel before he stopped, swaying ever so slightly. Louise's eyes widened as she saw him collapse forwards onto his knees as his strength apparently gave out. The small girl lunged, catching the unconscious stranger just before his head hit the ground. She felt the side of his face pressing into her lap, causing the young noble to blush slightly as she noticed something else that was very off about him...he was built like a damned grizzly bear crossed with an orc!

Where in in the Founder's name had this giant of a man come from?!


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's notes: This chapter was written in probably one of the longest sessions in which I sat down and did nothing but write. Hopefully, the quality of this story will continue to improve from the standards that I have set for it thus far. That being said, after reading through this chapter a few times on my own after it had been posted, I began to notice several errors that made me cringe. I've become somewhat of a perfectionist when it comes to writing, and even the slightest mistakes in spelling or a missing word makes me needlessly loathe myself.**

 **So, I'm updating this chapter with a request for Beta readers for both _From Heir to Familiar_ and the re-write of _Attack on Titan: The Spartan Assault_. College has been surprisingly easy thus far, and I find myself with more free time then I did in High School. Thus I will continue to write fanfiction as practice for my own private work as often as I can, or when I have writer's block for said personal work.**

 **As always, feedback is appreciated greatly. If you simply want to have a chat with me or have any potential ideas on how to improve the story and/or my writing, feel free to PM me. I'm pretty good about checking my email and will get back to you as quickly as possible.**

* * *

 **3 Months Earlier**

 **Castle Dour, Solutide, Skyrim 4E 204**

* * *

The room was dark and cold, lit only by the glowing embers of a fire that had long since died. What light there was flickered off of the ancient stone walls enclosing the keep, which had been established during the Second Era so many years ago. An old map of Tamriel lay spread across the table, with various flags marking key positions throughout the land embedded in the parchment. A figure sat in a large arm chair; reclining as a set of old eyes watched the burning embers in the fireplace. He was rather tall for an Imperial, and clad in the attire of the Legion that befitted his rank.

General Tulius shifted, lost in thought. Plans and schemes filtered in and out of his mind as he sifted through them, but he always returned to one thing. The Dragonborn, the man who had lead his forces to victory time and time again. He would be the center piece in any attack, whether on the battlefield or in the political ring. He was too important to leave garrisoning Skyrim like some in the Elder Council had suggested. Only a politician would consider using such a powerful asset like that, and Tulius was not about to let such a loyal citizen of the Empire step out of the spot light just yet.

There was a knock at the door, rousing the general from his thoughts. Tulius sat up and frowned, prepared to give whoever had interrupted him an earful that they soon wouldn't forget. However, it was in that moment that a young, familiar voice came through the hard wood of the door.

"You wanted to see me General Tulius?" The man at the door asked. His tone while respectful reflected that he somewhat unsure of why he had been called in. The general got up out of his chair and moved towards the fireplace, picking up a few spare logs and chucking them into the embers. The old fire crackled, embers being tossed up into the air with a vengeance before settling down. It wouldn't be enough to stoke the fire back to life, but at least it would add a bit of bulk to the fire for when he added more tinder.

"Come in Legate, and close the door behind you…" Tulius said, placing his hands down on the smoothed surface of the table that held the map. The door swung open on its hinges, and a massive man stepped through the doorframe. The Legate was huge, especially for a Nord and built like a grizzly bear, with great broad shoulders and massive paw-like hands. He closed the door behind him and stood at attention for a moment before Tulius nodded.

"Don't worry about the formalities Wulfgar, you can relax." The general quipped, giving the man before him a small smile. A grin was quite a rare thing to see on the old war veteran's face, but he found himself doing it more often every time he met with the Legate. The massive northerner cracked a grin in return.

"Had I known that I would have dressed more informally" He said, motioning down to his heavy chest, which was concealed in the darkness. The general shook his head and sighed, reaching up to rub his temples with a spare hand.

"You know my eyes aren't what they used to be Legate" General Tulius groaned, eliciting a frown from the man in front of him. Wulfgar Iron-Fist strode forth into the room with a purpose and stopped in front of the fire. He hunched over and got onto his hands and knees.

"Let's remedy that problem then, eh General?" Wulfgar said before putting a hand to the side of his mouth, funneling his breath towards the embers and inhaling slowly. He let out a slow, careful whisper.

 **" _Yol"_**

The logs were set ablaze immediately, lit by the Legate's quiet Thu'um. He stood up, and with one massive hand grabbed a bundle of sticks and tossed them into the flames as the dragon-fire consumed the burning slabs of wood. The giant of a man stood up and turned, letting the flames rise and shed light on the room around him.

Wulfgar appeared to be clad in his old dragon-scale armor; however upon closer inspection it was rather apparent to the general that this was a completely different set of mail. The scales were smaller and set with care, overlapping one another around the more flexible areas of his torso. The larger, thicker scales were aligned on his stomach, and engraved with what appeared to be golden dragon runes. Further up on his chest was the upper half of the breastplate, made from two pieces of ivory colored dragon bone; each finely carved slab of bone was etched with Legion iconography and set in gold like the runes below them.

The rest of the armor followed the same sort of pattern, with heavier bone protecting areas that could be stiff like the outer arms and shins, with scale and dragonhide protecting the areas that needed to be flexible. As a whole the entire suit was a masterpiece, a seamless blend of fundamentally two different kinds of armor that fit together as one.

The general whistled, marveling at the mail with an appraising eye. "Your dedication to the art of the Forge never ceases to amaze me Wulfgar. At the very least you look like a proper Dragonborn now, don't you?" Tulius said with a smile, patting the massive man on the back.

The Dragonborn nodded and returned to the table, now able to see everything in the room in good detail. It was rather spartan, with a table, a small bed and a wooden armchair sitting in front of the fireplace. Aside from those few bits of furniture, there were two roughly hewn stools on either side of the table, for when the General wanted to eat with company.

"So, why did you call me in General? I received a dispatch from a courier when I was stationed in Winterhold…" Wulfgar began, before suddenly finding himself cut off by the good general. Normally the Nord wouldn't stand being cut off by anyone, but he held his tongue out of respect for his commanding officer.

"Tell me, how long has it been since we slew that traitor Ulfric and his soul to Oblivion?" The General asked with crossed arms, his face now suddenly twisted into a serious expression. It was time to get down to business.

"Just over two years now, why?" Wulfgar replied, scratching his chin as he looked down at his ranking officer. He was starting to get a funny feeling about why he had been summoned.

"And how long has it been since you slew Alduin the World Eater?" The General pressed, his face still hardened as he looked the taller man right in the eyes. Wulfgar frowned again. Surely Tulius couldn't have forgotten the day when most of the dragon attacks in Skyrim stopped.

"Again, just over two years now, where are you going with-" Wulfgar began, only to have Tulius raise his hand to cut him off again.

"And how long has our great Empire been without an emperor?" The General asked, his eyes boring right into Wulfgar's own stormy grey orbs. The Legate opened his mouth to speak and paused, his expression growing somewhat softer as he recalled the day of Titus Mede II's assassination at the hand of the Dark Brotherhood.

"Two years and seven days…" The Dragonborn said softly, hanging his head down in silence. "I hear he was a great man, though I never got to know him personally…"

"That he was, that he was." Tulius said, his own face softening as well as he recalled the man that he once swore an oath of undying loyalty to. The Emperor was indeed a good, if somewhat weak man. He had done whatever he could just to keep the Empire from being completely annihilated, even if it had meant denying the worship of the Ninth Divine, Talos. He never deserved having his throat slit by a Dark Brotherhood assassin.

"I thought that things were looking up for us when you gutted Ulfric and lopped off that Black Dragon's head, but with the emperor's death I came to realize something. Our Empire grows weaker with every passing day as Titus Mede's relatives bicker amongst themselves and fall to poisoned blades and honeyed words. The Elder Council is divided, and various noblemen are attempting to stake claims to the throne. At this rate, by the time that Succession is finally resolved the damn Thalmor will have already overwhelmed us yet again."

Tulius looked up into his Legate's eyes and motioned towards the nearby armchair. "Take a seat son, I daresay you'll need it in a few minutes.

Wulfgar raised an eyebrow questioningly as he looked over at the armchair. He found it odd that he hadn't been offered a stool instead; it was the General's personal seat after all. The Dragonborn shook his head and grabbed the chair by the headrest and flipped it around to face the general before taking a seat. The wood groaned slightly underneath his bulk, but it held all the same.

There was another knock on the door, and before Wulfgar could move to stand again General Tulius cleared his throat. "Yes, what is it?"

"It's Legate Rikke, you sent for me sir?"

Wulfgar raised an eyebrow upon hearing the Legate's familiar voice. She was his older female counterpart, and he had served underneath her during the early stages of the Civil War. Usually the two of them were never in the same room as the General unless theoretical battle plans against the Aldmeri Dominion were being drawn up. Her involvement made him even more curious as to what was going on.

The door opened to admit her, and Legate Rikke stepped through into the General's room before closing it behind her. She was dressed in the standard Legionary Heavy raiment, though she had forgone her helmet to keep her braided brown hair visible. She too stood at attention before being relieved by Tulius. She smiled and Wulfgar and nodded. "It's been a few months Legate, how did Winterhold treat you?"

Wulfgar's face split into a grin as well, the edges of which nearly took in his ears. "As well as you'd expect with the College pestering me to give demonstrations every minute of the day, after all it's not every day that the Dragonborn is stationed in your home town." He chuckled, crossing his hands over his lap as he leaned forward.

Rikke shook her head, chortling as well. "Well, they can't be any worse than the children here in Solitude always pestering you to play with them. They follow you around everywhere you go." She said, placing her hands at her waist. Wulfgar's eyes widen as he leaned back in mock horror.

"By the Nine, the mages are actually worse! Children are at least satisfied with a story or two, especially after a round of tag. But the mages? They want to poke and prod and constantly plead me to give demonstrations of the Thu'um day in and day out. If it weren't for the new Archmage, I swear I'd go insane!" The giant of a man grumbled, crossing his arms over his massive chest before snorting derisively.

General Tulius and Legate Rikke tensed slightly at the mention of the Nine Divines, but then merely shook it off. The Thalmor's presence in Skyrim had been completely obliterated when Wulfgar had secretly attacked their embassy. Without the threat of being overheard by the damned High Elves, there was no need to persecute Talos worshipers in Skyrim.

Officially the destruction of the Thamlor's base of operations had been blamed on the Stormcloaks, and the Empire was actively seeking out the rebels to bring them to justice. However, that was a bold faced lie, and everyone that Wulfgar had come to be friends with knew it. Even the Aldmeri Dominion was more than a little suspicious about the true nature of their embassy's destruction, but even they did not have the power to investigate the Dragonborn.

"Anyway, that's enough catching up from the two of you. We need to get down to business." The General said after clearing his throat and catching the other two officers' attention. Rikke nodded and leaned up against the map table, careful not to shift it around too much. Wulfgar frowned, as this situation was feeling odder and odder by the moment. If this was a War Council meeting, they'd all be seated around the table to draw up plans. Something was definitely amiss.

"I take it this meeting doesn't have to do with planning a potential campaign?" Wulfgar asked, sitting up to lean forward in the armchair. Both Tulius and Legate Rikke looked over at one another before sighing.

"No, at least not the sort that you're thinking about." General Tulius said, his eyes locking with Wulfgar's. This elicited a raised eyebrow from the Dragonborn.

"This is the first time in a while we've discussed politics then, are either of you planning on running for a position on the Elder Council or something?" He asked somewhat jokingly, though judging by the looks on both of his companions' faces he had struck a bit closer to home then they had expected.

The General cleared his throat and leaned forward, firmly placing a hand on Wulfgar's shoulder and squeezing.

"We're here to discuss the ascension of the next Emperor to the Ruby Throne." Tulius said, keeping his firm grip on Wulfgar's shoulder. His eyes widened in surprise. He hadn't expected to be talking about such a high position, or the possibility of who would take it up.

"Who is the potential candidate we're planning to endorse? High Queen Elisif? Yourself General? If you desire my support I will fully-" Wulfgar felt the General squeeze his shoulder even harder, causing the massive Nord to blink. He looked deeper into the general's eyes, and saw a spark there, a spark that he didn't like.

"We're talking about your claim to the throne, Wulfgar"

* * *

The silence was palpable, broken only by the crackling of the fire in the hearth. The firelight danced around the room, causing both the eyes of General Tulius and Legate Rikke to flicker with cunning deviousness. Wulfgar blinked slowly, still trying to process the bombshell that had just been dropped right on his head.

"General, if this is your idea of a joke-"

"By the Nine, it's not a joke Wulfgar. You are our only shot at a united Empire strong enough to withstand the might of the Aldmeri Dominion!" Tulius said, shaking Wulfgar's shoulder to try and keep his attention focused on him.

"But why me? I'm just a soldier, an extraordinary one to be sure, but a soldier none the less. I don't see how-"

"Your humility doesn't overshadow your achievements Wulfgar" Legate Rikke said, cutting him off before the General could intercede. "You're the Hero of Skyrim; the Dragonblood of old flows through your very veins! You slew Alduin the World Eater, stamped out the Stormcloak Rebellion, put an end to the Vampire menace alongside the Dawnguard, they even say that you slew the very first Dragonborn Miirak on Solstheim!"

Wulfgar's brow furrowed and he crossed his arms, puffing out his chest slightly. "Come now, there's no evidence to back up your last two claims, just rumors and hearsay. You can hardly-"

"Your achievements are equal to that of Talos himself." Rikke said, stopping Wulfgar dead in his tracks. His jaw hung open in shock as Tulius nodded in agreement.

"Think about it Wulfgar, your life shares many parallels with that of Tiber Septim. You were called to High Hrothgar by the Greybeards, shouted down the gates of enemy forts and even the Palace of Kings, you have a great Red Dragon sworn to your service, and command the respect of the Legion and your fellow Nords." The General said, causing Wulfgar to shake his head emphatically.

"Tiber Septim conquered all of Tamriel before the end of his reign. The Empire today would not exist without him" Wulfgar countered desperately, still trying to convince himself this was a joke, or a really bizarre dream.

"And you've saved all of Tamriel three times over, from three different threats. Give credit to yourself where credit is due. That would be a task that Talos himself would struggle to aspire to on his own. He never had to deal with the First Born of Akatosh, or the forces of Cold Harbor. Yes he did unite the Empire, but he hardly saved the world." Rikke said, casting Wulfgar a look that left no room for argument.

The Dragonborn grumbled underneath his breath, keeping his arms crossed. He shook his head, trying to find some way to get out of this. Both of his compatriots smiled however and pressed in for the kill.

"The Dragon Blood flowing through your veins alone is enough to validate your claim to the Ruby Throne. You have my support, and the support of High Queen Elisif. Hell, you have every Jarl in Skyrim at your back. That's more political unity then what exists in the entirety of the Empire. We need a strong man such as yourself in the White Gold Tower. Everyone in the Legion looks up to you, you give them hope. With you on the throne, we have more than a fighting chance against the Aldmeri Dominion." General Tulius said, pressing the issue further.

"I'm not a politician! I hate politics!" Wulfgar growled, standing like an angry grizzly bear as he rose from Tulius's armchair. Both the General and the other Legate stepped back a bit from him, knowing that they needed to be careful now.

"We don't need another milk drinking Emperor on the Ruby Throne, we need someone strong, and who has a real claim to the throne. Face it Wulfgar, you're the only real choice." Legate Rikke said, stepping forward to grab Wulfgar by his forearm. The massive Nord glared daggers at his counterpart, starting to tense up.

"The Empire needs you, Dragonborn…"

Wulfgar's eyes softened, and he slowly moved to sit back down in the chair. He reached up to massage his temples, trying to keep all of his thoughts in order. A soft groan escaped his lips, and he shook his head. The Nord looked at both of his companions and sighed.

"Alright, I guess there is really no other viable choice. But I have no idea how to rule, or how to even act according to such a station. I need to-"

"Elisif will teach you everything you need to know about being a ruler. She offered her services for it months ago." Tulius interrupted with a grin.

"You've been planning this for that long?!"

"Of course, the best laid plans take time."

Wulfgar could only glare at his commanding officer as the old man's smile grew wider and wider.

* * *

 **3 Months Later**

 **Road to Ivarstead, The Rift, Skyrim**

* * *

 _By the gods, why does it always have to rain when I travel to Ivarstead?_ Wulfgar thought, slowly making his way up the steep mountain path. Mud sucked at his boots, drawing them a good few inches into the soil as he trudged along, leaving deep furrows in his wake. The sickening suck of having to wrench his feet free every few steps was seriously starting to get on the already grumpy Nord's nerves.

He had already been relatively sour these past few months, staying cooped up in the Blue Palace being lectured by High Queen Elisif and her court on manners and how to carry one's self. He knew that they would be useful in the event that he became Emporer, but he absolutely hated being around some of the other Thanes.

The High Queen herself was certainly a kind enough person, and she was perfectly content to gently point out mistakes and give advice as opposed to directly trying to force him to act in a manner that he felt was unnatural. The Thanes on the other hand were constantly trying to give him pointers, at the same time that Falk Fire-Beard was trying to instruct him in courtly manners. It was incredibly irritating, especially with the way that each of the Thanes tried to pry some sort of favor out of him, each of them trying to gain an edge over the other.

The week before Wulfgar was to head to the Imperial City however, he had finally managed to catch a break from life at Court. He had been given a reprieve to get his affairs in order and he could think of no better way to prepare himself for the possibility of ascending to the throne then to speak with his old friends, the Greybeards. These men (And one dragon) had taught him much about the Thu'um and the Way of the Voice set down by Jurgen Wind-Caller so many years ago.

The thought of seeing his old masters again gave the stubborn Nord the will to trudge forward through the driving rain. Wulfgar kept climbing even though the icy rain continued to pelt his skin. The heavy fur cloak, fashioned from the pelt of a cave bear and trimmed with snow fox fur kept the worst of the rain off of him. However the air was still quite cold and soon tiny crystals of ice began to form on Wulfgar's armor and hooded cloak.

He narrowed his eyes against the howling wind, the tail end of his cloak flaring out behind him as the storm's breath tried to tear it away from him. He could see light out ahead of him and pressed forward, watching his footing. The slopes were always treacherous when wet and the slick mud didn't do anything to alleviate the risk of falling. The Dragonborn continued to slug it out through the storm until he came to more level ground. He could feel his feet touch the cobblestones of the path that lead into the heart of town, and used this as motivation to continue on to find the inn.

After a few more minutes of walking along the village road, Wulfgar's heavy boots thumped down on the front deck of the Vilemyr Inn. He wrapped a great hand around the door handle and pulled the heavy wooden door open to admit himself inside. The rush of warm, dry air came as a relief to the weary Nord as he stepped into the threshold of the establishment. The roaring fire burning within the hearth lit the entire building, though there were a few candle scones in the corners to provide more adequate lighting to the various tables that lined the edges of the inn.

Wulfgar made his way towards the innkeeper, his hand down at his waist as he fished out a heavy coin purse. The man eyed the Dragonborn cautiously until he pulled back his heavy fur hood to reveal his face fully. The innkeeper positively beamed and reached behind him to pull out a bottle of Honningbrew mead.

"Greetings Wilhelm, how's business been?" Wulfgar asked, throwing the coinpurse down on the counter as the other Nord placed the bottle down next to it. He didn't move to collect the gold however, causing Wulfgar to raise an eyebrow and push it towards him.

"That's fine Wulfgar; it's an honor to have you in my establishment. I'm glad that you've also remembered my name!" Wilhelm said, running a hand over his balding dome as he tried to push the money back over to the Dragonborn. Wulfgar's massive paw of a hand clamped down over both the coinpurse and the innkeeper's appendage. The look in his eyes brooked no argument.

"I always pay Wilhelm. Consider it repayment for how you foisted that Dragon-Claw on me." He said, smiling as he recalled how the older man had basically shoved the rather expensive looking puzzle key into his inexperienced hands. The innkeeper let loose a deep, genuine chuckle in response as he counted out the coin for the mead. He did so at a discount of course, as he did with all members of the Legion that stopped by for a drink. Rarely did he let his food and drink go for half of their normal price like he was with the Dragonborn though.

Wulfgar chuckled, realizing that Wilhelm was still trying to treat him. He knew that if they sat arguing over the price of the alcohol that the two of them would be sitting at the bar all night, both probably drunk off of their respective Nord asses. So instead of trying to pay the innkeeper in full, he merely swept whatever left over coin was on the table into the purse and cinched it back up before placing it on his belt once more.

The cold and tired Dragonborn popped the cork on the bottle of mead and took a long swig before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before nodding in approval. The mead was cool and refreshing, and with the warm fire at his back and an old friend in front of him he began to feel quite comfortable.

"Never could understand why people like that Black-Briar piss" Wulfgar said, taking another long drink from the bottle as the innkeeper nodded in agreement.

"Aye, and it's a shame that Honningbrew went out of business. With the Black-briar family taking over the meadery outside of Whiterun this is probably one of the last bottles of Honningbrew that you'll have, unless they decide to keep the formula." Wilhelm said, placing a clean tankard down next to Wulfgar's bottle. The Dragonborn shook his head and corked the bottle, stowing it away in a pouch on his hip.

"I think I'll save it for later then, if it is indeed one of the last bottles of Honningbrew left, then I'd rather savor it on a special occasion." The massive man said, pulling out a piece of hard tack to chew on. A massive grin suddenly plastered itself over Wilhelm's face, causing the Dragonborn to frown.

"Like during your Coronation oh Mighty Emperor?"

The resounding crash that followed echoed throughout the building as Wulfgar's head collided with the countertop, eliciting a loud bark of laughter that rumbled up from within Wilhelm's gut.

"Don't tell me…"

"It's all the soldiers around here talk about, it's about time we had a strong Nordic Emperor on the throne instead of some milk drinking Imperial. With the Dragon Blood that flows through your veins, there's hardly anyone that can dispute your rightful claim to the throne, especially after your loyal service to the Empire."

"I didn't realize that word had spread so quickly." Wulfgar growled; his voice laced with venomous sarcasm. The innkeeper had inadvertently paraphrased the exact words that General Tulius had used to persuade him to make a bid for the Ruby Throne, which really irked him.

Wilhelm shook his head, still chuckling. "Well, it's certainly a great honor to be friends with the next Dragonborn Emperor. I guess I'll start having to call you Wulfgar Septim then, won't I?"

Wulfgar shook his head and sighed, biting into his hard bread once more. "More like Tiber Septim II, with the way that Legate Rikke and General Tulius have tried to make me out to be…"

Wilhelm raised an eyebrow at that before smiling yet again. "Then I suppose it's an honor to have the Great and Mighty Talos in my establishment!" He said, mocking a bow and causing the Dragonborn to growl yet again.

"Ah stuff it, I'm not the Emperor yet, and I'm not Talos reborn."

"No, but you've certainly given him a run for his coinpurse, possibly even upstaged him. Especially if the rumors I've heard these past few years are indeed true…"

"They're just rumors Wilhelm"

"All rumors contain a bit of truth Wulfgar, you know that"

"Of course I know, and as an innkeeper you of all people should know that most of what people say is bullshit." Wulfgar said, rubbing his temples.

The funny thing was that all of those rumors were true. He had indeed travelled to Solstheim and destroyed Miirak, the first of the Dragonborns, and ended the ambitions of the vampires of Volkhar Clan to end the 'Tyranny of the Sun' by blocking it out with corrupted arrows fired from Auriel's Bow. However, saving all of Tamriel three times over is still a feat that many would find to be impossible for one man.

The Dragonborn also had a problem with people putting him upon a pedestal beside or above that of Talos, the Hero God of mankind. It was hard to live up to the legend of the man who had reunited all of Tamriel and ascended to godhood, but to have others claim that you have surpassed him when you yourself don't see yourself in the same set of boots? It was rather infuriating. Thus Wulfgar did his best to deny any and all rumors pertaining to his other exploits, as he already couldn't stand the bright eyed hopefuls that tended to follow him around when they learned he was in town.

Wulfgar stood up from his stool, now having dried off most of the way and warmed himself by the hearth for as long as he had wanted.

"Thank you for the drink Wilhelm, I'll be sure to stop by when I return from High Hrothgar." He said, making sure that everything was in order. He heard the clank of another bottle being placed down upon the counter, and upon looking up he saw another bottle of Honningbrew mead.

"This is my last bottle of the stuff Wulfgar. Keep it so you can drink the other one on the road, mead always starts to taste a bit off after it's been open for more than a month." Wilhelm said; pushing the bottle towards the other Nord with a smile plastered on his face.

Wulfgar shrugged and reached for his coinpurse again, only to have Wilhelm hold his hand up and smirk. The Dragonborn sighed and shook his head, snatching the bottle off of the counter and stowing it next to the other bottle of mead.

"I know, I know…consider it as a gift…" Wulfgar grumbled, throwing his cloak back over his shoulder and pulling his hood up before heading over towards the door, leaving the grinning innkeeper behind as head headed out into the cold once more.

* * *

 _It's still fucking raining? That's it, I've had enough!_ Wulfgar thought, another growl emanating deep within his chest as he stepped out onto the road.

He took a deep breath and glared up at the rainclouds with a seething hatred.

" _ **Lok vah koor!**_

Wulfgar's shout shook the very heaven's themselves, and the rain began to quickly fade to a drizzle, then stop entirely as the clouds broke up overhead. The Dragonborn disliked shouting in villages or enroute to one, as it was a surefire way to announce that the Hero of Skyrim was fast approaching or already in their midst. However, he was sick and tired of all this gods' forsaken rain! The Clear Sky shout was something that he probably should have used before making the trek up to Ivarstead in the first place, but it was too late to change what was in the past.

With the clouds departing, Wulfgar could see the stars in the sky, as well as Masser and Secunda in orbit overhead, the two moons eclipsing one another as he set off across the bridge towards the 7000 steps. The walk was grueling and cold, as it always was. The typical pilgrims praying at the shrines had returned to Ivarstead many hours before the Dragonborn had set out from the inn. Normally he too would have stopped to pray, but time was short, and the air was growing colder by the minute.

Several hours passed as Wulfgar continued his journey up the Throat of the World. He could feel the wind lashing snow against his face as he passed by loose drifts, and with the wind now picking up he needed to press on as quickly as possible. Already clouds were starting to form overhead once again, and the brief reprieve that the Dragonborn had given himself drew to a rapid end as white, glistening flakes of snow began to fall from the sky.

It was then that he heard it, that familiar bone chilling roar…and then another…and another…The Dragonborn quickly drew his longbow from his back. The massive weapon made from dragonbone was already strung and ready for use. Wulfgar pulled an ebony arrow from its quiver and nocked it onto the bowstring, searching for the telltale silhouette of his all too familiar foe.

The sound of mighty wings beating upon the gathering wind drew Wulfgar's attention to the west, and there he saw them. Three dragons bore down upon him, their eyes filled with hatred as they let loose cries of vengeance for their fallen leader Alduin, and disparaging the tyranny of Paarthunax in Dovahzul.

 _A Blood Dragon, a Frost Dragon, and an Elder Dragon…not much of a threat on their own, but this could get problematic quickly…_ Wulfgar thought, drawing a bead on the Frost Dragon. He hated the way those beasts had once nearly ended his life, and old grudges die hard. The bow arms creaked as the Nord drew the fletching of the arrow back to his cheek. He took a deep breath and exhaled before letting his bow sing.

The weapon spat its black shafted projectile towards the oncoming monsters, striking the frost dragon square in the chest. The beast gave a howl of pain and staggered in its flight, falling behind the rest of the group. Two more arrows flew up to meet the stunned dragon, disorienting it and throwing off its intended flight path. The sky began to glow green, and Wulfgar briefly began to hear a familiar chant. He tuned it out however as the falling snow suddenly began to intensify as the elder dragon let loose an unfamiliar shout.

Realizing that there would be only one more chance to take the frost dragon out before the oncoming blizzard set in, Wulfgar let his final arrow fly, striking the monster in the throat before sliding the bow over his shoulders. He didn't want to risk Shouting up here, as it could potentially cause an avalanche if he wasn't careful, and getting another shot at the Frost Dragon wasn't worth the risk.

" _ **To my servant who exists somewhere in this vast universe!"**_

Wulfgar's eyes widened in surprise, and he began to look about wildly. Who in Oblivion was shouting in this snowstorm? The Throat of the World was no place for adolescent girls, and judging by the echoing of the voice Wulfgar assumed that she was possibly higher up the path. Well, if she could hear herself up there, then she was most certainly running for cover as the dragons drew closer and closer.

The Dragonborn reached over to his side and drew Stormfang, his dragonbone sword with a quiet rasp. The beige colored blade glistened in the frigid night air, the enamel on the blade allowing it to come out of its fur lined scabbard with ease. It wasn't the crudely made piece of equipment that it once was, rather it looked like something that had been forged by a true master smith. It was long with a straight, tapered blade, much like the longswords of the Third Era, from which Wulfgar had drawn inspiration. The long black reinforcing strip of ebony running up the fuller was etched with golden dragon runes, which began to glow brightly as the snowstorm settled in.

" _ **I, Louise Francoise le Blanc de la Valliere, in the name of the Pentagon of Five Elemental Powers call out to you!"**_

 _Great, a stupid girl that doesn't know how to take a hint; sounds like your typical mage…_ Wulfgar thought, turning to charge up the mountainside. Well, mage or not, he wasn't going to let someone die if he could help it, even if they were being imbeciles.

The Dragonborn held his weapon with a firm grip, his hand held just underneath the elegantly crafted ebony cross guard, beneath which lay a pommel made of the same material, set with a flawless ruby at its base. Wulfgar quickly made his way up the steps, dodging and rolling to avoid the bursts of frost and dragonfire as they narrowly avoided hitting him.

Realizing that running while under attack by several flying lizards was doomed to get him killed; Wulfgar reached over his shoulder and unclasped a shield of Dwemer make as the dragons closed in yet again. An array of mirrors covered the face of the shield, forming what looked to be a delicate and useless decoration. They were far from it however, as they gave the shield an ability that no other shield possessed, the ability to project wards, and reflect magic back at an opponent.

"Glad I brought Spellbreaker along…" Wulfgar muttered, raising the shield just in time to ward off a gout of flame that poured from the maw of the Elder Dragon as it attempted to strafe him. The ice and snow around him melted as he pressed onwards, the blinding blizzard growing worse with every passing second.

" _ **My wise, beautiful, powerful and divine servant who strikes fear into even the hearts of dragons!"**_

"Almost sounds like she's talking about me…" Wulfgar grumbled, still scurrying up along the path as the dragons circled overhead, taunting him while the Frost Dragon bellowed at him in both rage and pain.

" _ **Heed my call and bring yourself forth…My…Familiar!"**_

The famous Northern Lights of Skyrim suddenly burst into existence, the shimmering array of colors dancing across the sky as Wulfgar finally made his way up out of the blizzard, though to his dismay it quickly followed up behind him. Knowing that the snowstorm would soon consume him again, Wulfgar sprinted up the steps towards the gates of High Hrothgar, before turning to face the dragons circling him overhead.

Each of them began to dive upon him, trying to strafe or snatch him. However, as the Frost Dragon began its second approach Wulfgar flicked his blade out, catching it across the throat. The keen blade sliced through its windpipe and jugular vein, knocking it from the sky where it vanished somewhere in the flurry of snow.

 _That's one bastard down…_ Wulfgar thought, catching his breath as the other two dragons circled around him. The Dragonborn sneered at them, beating the flat of his blade against the rim of Spellbreaker, taunting the beasts to come down and fight.

Evidently, the Elder Dragon had more foolish pride then the Blood Dragon overhead as it dove down towards the Dragonborn. However, instead of using its velocity and body mass to knock the Nord off the side of the mountain, the dragon landed with earth shattering force, beating its mace-like tail on the ground as it accepted the Dovahkiin's challenge.

Wulfgar grinned manically as he finally let loose a mighty Shout, finally on the steps of High Hrothgar and out of danger of causing an avalanche.

" _ **Lok vah koor!"**_

With the snowstorm waning rapidly, the Dragonborn quickly closed the distance between himself and the bronze scaled Elder Dragon, slamming Spellbreaker into its face. The beast howled in surprise before roaring, spewing a jet of flame from its toothy maw. Wulfgar raised his shield, allowing the ward it projected to deal with the fire as he charged in, unaware that the Blood Dragon had decided to land behind him.

The Elder Dragon snarled and took a deep breath, preparing to use its Voice against the hated Dovahkiin.

" _ **Yol toor shul!"**_

Wulfgar quickly rolled to the side, allowing the fireball to pass harmlessly by before rushing back in, slamming Stormfang into the dragon's face. Angry bolts of electricity raced across the monster's scaly hide, causing it to howl in pain. Suddenly there was the sound of an explosion behind him, and the Dragonborn turned to glance over his shoulder, only to have to dive to the side as a wall of flame nearly engulfed him.

There was a strange, unruly mob of adolescent men and women standing behind what looked to be a middle aged man holding a large wooden staff aloft. He cocked an eyebrow as the older man; apparently a mage judging by his clothing began an odd chant. Rolling his eyes, Wulfgar turned to face his opponent again, only to catch movement out of the corner of his eye.

Wulfgar quickly turned and raised Spellbreaker, and just in the nick of time too. Dragon fire washed over the Dovahkiin, the force of the attack broken by the daedric artifact as he charged in. Sensing it's mistake, the Blood Dragon took off, the mighty beats of its wings stirring the loose snow into yet another flurry.

Seeing that his quarry had gone airborne, Wulfgar spun about to smash the Elder Dragon on the face as it attempted to bite him from behind. The sound of small objects plopping into the snow was incredibly satisfying as blood dripped from the beast's maw. It was easy to see that several teeth were now missing, much to the monsters chagrin.

With the dragon blinded by rage, it wasn't that difficult to get in a well-aimed slash. Stormfang whistled through the air, biting deep into the right side of the bronze scaled dragon's neck. Its eyes widened in pain and surprise, causing the Dragonborn to smirk as electricity arced through the monster's body.

"Not so confident now eh?" He taunted before quickly raising his shield as the beast lunged. The tips of its teeth broke off on the rim of Spellbreaker, eliciting a growl of frustration from the wounded beast. This frustration turned to pain and surprise as Stormfang flicked out, drawing a livid red line across the Dragon's face, gouging into its incredibly vulnerable eye. The dragon shook's its head and howled, trying to force the pain to recede as it glared at the Dovahkiin with its remaining hate filled eye.

The sound of a long, deep breath from high overhead prompted Wulfgar to raise Spellbreaker over his head defensively. Dragonfire spewed forth from the maw of the circling Blood Dragon. The flames licked over the Dragonborn, as well was the astonished Elder Dragon, who looked up at its circling compatriot with betrayal in its eye.

Wulfgar smirked and lunged, taking advantage of his opponent's distraction. Stormfang lodged itself up through the bottom of the monster's jaw, piercing its tongue before forcing its way through the roof of the dragon's mouth. The beast gave one last hiss of pain before collapsing as Wulfgar withdrew his blade, flicking it as it exited to clear it of blood.

The Blood Dragon roared in rage at the Dovahkiin, and dove upon him. Even though he had intentionally attempted to set both his compatriot and the Nord on fire, his eyes still seethed with rage and revenge. Wulfgar merely shook his head and took aim, Stormfang turning in a slow, lazy arc as the Dragonborn spun the blade in a figure eight to keep up speed and momentum.

It was over in an instant. The second that the green scaled dragon had come close, Stormfang whistled downwards, cleaving through the beast's thick wing joint and severing it from the dragon's body. Wulfgar's face held a grim smile as he watched the monster crash head first into the snow, his eyes gleaming with triumph. His armor was covered in steaming blood, but he simply didn't care.

The rush of wind as he consumed the souls of all three dragons filled him with euphoria, causing his entire body to shudder. It was almost as intense as the first time that he had absorbed a Dragon Soul, but nothing would ever compare to the feeling of elation that he felt when Alduin, the World Eater was struck from the sky for good.

* * *

Still flushed from his victory, Wulfgar let out a triumphant roar holding his blade high overhead. Stormfang glistened in the sunlight, the golden runes shining brightly. The Nord blinked, glancing skyward…how in Oblivion was it morning already? Something was wrong…the air was warm despite the snow that was still upon the ground.

The Dragonborn cast a weary glance to his left and froze dead in his tracks. The mob of children were still there…and now that he could focus clearly without giant flying lizards trying to roast him, he could tell that he was in the center of a massive courtyard, with 25 foot walls of stone surrounding it on all sides. The sight of the massive tower connected to the far wall reminded him of the White Gold Tower, but the Heart of the Imperial City would have towered even over that.

"Where in the name of Oblivion am I?" He asked, stepping towards the crowd of children. Many of them scrambled backwards as he approached, only for the older man to step forward and raise his staff defensively. He barked something nervously, obviously trying to get the Dragonborn to back off. Wulfgar raised his hands, keeping his arms spread.

"I'm no threat to you…where is this place? Who are you people?" He asked, before mentally kicking himself. Of course he was a threat to them, they just witnessed him take down three dragons! Only a moron would let their guard down after seeing a stranger preform such a feat. Wulfgar sighed and sheathed Stormfang, suddenly starting to feel rather light headed.

He reached up to grab his forehead, allowing his fingers to dig into his temples. He was exhausted from running and fighting in the cold, high altitude he had previously occupied. With all the thin air he had been breathing, it was hardly surprised that he was feeling tired. Spellbreaker fell numbly from his grasp as Wulfgar felt his knees give out from underneath him.

The last thing that he saw before his head hit the ground was a young girl with strawberry blonde hair rushing towards him, her arms held out to try and break his fall. He felt the side of his face land upon something warm and soft, before blackness finally descended upon him.


End file.
